


Sherlock and Mary Talk (Well, Mary Does Most Of The Talking)

by HelloHolaHallo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: it's complicated - Freeform, kind of one-sided johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloHolaHallo/pseuds/HelloHolaHallo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mary loves John, Sherlock loves John, John loves Sherlock, John loves Mary, Sherlock and Mary love each other as friends, everything is from Mary's perspective, and I overuse brackets, and the word 'really'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock and Mary Talk (Well, Mary Does Most Of The Talking)

She hadn't meant to say anything, she really hadn't. 

However, after seeing Sherlock stare dejectedly at John as he declared the fact that, actually, he was not in fact, gay, (as if that really mattered in the end), and he was, in fact, married, to a woman, for the thousandth time, she just couldn't not say something. 

The thing was, she didn't actually mind, not really. 

After all, she was happy, John was perfect, and she loved him as much as Sherlock clearly did, and he'd almost completely forgiven her (Sherlock had helped with that, he really, really had). 

And John loved her, too, you know. Of course he did, she was just as crazy and dangerous as Sherlock, but she was a woman (and she didn't keep body parts in the fridge). Except it wasn't that, not really; she was someone John could have a relationship with, the kind of relationship John needed, that he'd always wanted, had spent his entire life searching for; marriage and children and shared bank-accounts. Just enough stability and normality that John felt...safe. 

And she was just the perfect balance of safety and danger that, with some (extremely subtle), persuading from his best friend, John would forgive her pretty much anything. (And she would always love him for that (and Sherlock too, in a different way). And she would forgive him anything (even though she knows she'll never have to.))

And Sherlock... was as happy as Sherlock could really be. He had John, for adventures and crimes and all his games, John didn't live with him any more, but, that meant the milk wouldn't run out so quickly (less tea), and John spent so much time at the flat anyway, half the time, Sherlock probably didn't even notice he wasn't there. 

And she knew that John was hers, as much as he was Sherlock's, so she didn't mind that Sherlock loved John, it only meant that Sherlock would protect him, and John needed protection. He was like a psychopath magnet, or a high functioning sociopath magnet, at least.

It was obvious really... The way Sherlock looked at John, everyone could see it. That was the reason they kept being mistaken for a couple, even if John was completely oblivious. But she'd never, ever meant to say anything. There was no need to. Sherlock loved John, but he knew that they could never be together; he probably didn't even want that from John (she was pretty sure that Sherlock was asexual; she was positive that he wasn't, as John seemed to think sometimes, aromantic). And it wasn't like she wasn't happy to share, so she'd been determined not to say anything, right up until the moment she did.

“You know, me and John have this thing we do, where we say things like: I love you more than anyone else, no-one could love anyone nearly as much as I love you.” She couldn't stop herself at first, and then she just kept talking; “The thing is, whenever I say that, I can't help thinking: except for Sherlock... I mean it's obvious you love him just as much as I do.” She stopped, trying to gauge his reaction, maybe she'd gone too far, it really wasn't any of her business, after all.  
Sherlock turned to look at her, he looked... resigned, well, as much as Sherlock could. Maybe a little annoyed, but not angry.

“He loves you too, you know.” Seeing his expression, she added “Not in the same way he loves, me, he can't, you always knew that. But he does love you, as much, I think, as he loves me. I just... you should know, even though he doesn't, if you wanted that kind of relationship, and you were a woman, or it didn't matter so much that you weren't... It's just; it feels unfair, I mean, you met him first...” She trailed off. She hadn't needed to say any of that, not really, it was all understood. 

“Anyway, I just... I want you to be happy...” She trailed off., as if that wasn't the worst thing she could've said. She and John had each other and the baby. What did Sherlock have, any more? She'd taken his flatmate. She'd taken the man who must surely be, if you believe in such things, his soul mate. She had John. 

And that was the real reason she was saying this, wasn't it? She felt guilty. Sherlock had given everything, so that they could be happy. As if he hadn't already given enough. And now she had John, and Sherlock barely saw him, unless there was a case. What could she say? That she felt Sherlock deserved John more? What did that change? It wasn't like she'd ever give him up, even if John was suddenly alright with that. Even if that was what Sherlock wanted.

And the worst thing was that none of this was her fault, it was just the way it was. Plenty of things were her fault, but not this, and Sherlock didn't blame her, and she knew all of this, but she still felt bad. And maybe feeling bad for Sherlock was what she felt most guilty about. Because Sherlock didn't want or need her pity or her guilt, but she felt it and she couldn't hide it because he was Sherlock, and he'd know. He always did. So here she was. Trying to explain herself.

And all Sherlock could do was slowly breathe out the tobacco smoke, and reply, softly, “I know.”


End file.
